“He wouldn’t have immediately gotten out of the tunnel,” Mac surmised. “If he heard us coming, he knows we’d set a perimeter around that building. He had to get outside of that perimeter.”
“Mac,” Wire asked. “If he knew this was here, if he planned on using this as a possible escape route, he knew where he was probably heading.”
“And if he planned to use this tunnel, he wasn’t going to get out of it right away,” Mac answered. He noticed a gap in the tunnel ahead, what appeared to be a connection, a “T” in the pipe. As he stepped into the junction, the height of the pipe was taller and he could stand up freely.
“This must be more of a main line,” a patrol officer stated as he entered. “We were in a branch line.”
Mac crouched down and scanned the pipe to the left and could see prints. He turned to his right and didn’t necessarily see prints but he also didn’t see as much dirt on the bottom of the pipe. “It looks like the prints go left,” Mac stated. “Wire and I will go that way. You two go the other for a few blocks, just in case.”
Mac and Wire moved forward while the two officers went the other direction. Mac held his gun in his right hand crossed over his left, which held the flashlight. He favored the left side of the tunnel. Dara followed ten feet behind, doing the same shading to the right side of the tunnel.
“How far away are we?” Wire whispered quietly.
“Hard to say,” Mac answered quietly, moving forward. “It feels like we’ve gone blocks, several blocks, just based on my sense of direction,” he added and then stopped, going on alert and looking back. “There’s a ladder ahead, maybe thirty feet.”
Wire nodded.
Mac moved forward quickly and reached the ladder and pointed his light up, following the ladder rungs up the narrow exit tunnel. “The manhole cover looks loose up there. I think he might have gone back up here.” He looked back to Wire. “Cover me again.”
“I got ya.”
Mac stuffed his gun and flashlight in his waistband and started up the ladder rungs.
At the top rung, Mac reached up and slipped his fingers into the sliver of a gap between the cover and the rim edge and pushed the cover off, took out his gun and popped up out of the sewer and into a narrow alley, scanning the area.
It was a dark spot.
There were no street lights near the manhole cover. The closest light was the street lights at either end of the alley. Mac looked down to see Wire making her way up the ladder.
“Where am I?” Mac asked out loud. “I have to be west, a little southwest, but how far? Am I still inside the perimeter?” he muttered as he took his phone back out. He tapped the microphone icon on the screen and spoke into the phone: “Map my current location.”
It took a couple of seconds but then his location popped up on the screen and Mac could tell they were several blocks west-southwest of Eleanor Eagleson’s apartment building. He ran toward the north end of the alley as he swiped the screen with his fingers left to get the map back to Eleanor’s apartment location. It was at least seven blocks back to the east. They were a long way away.
As he reached the end of the alley, Mac stopped, looked back to the east and his shoulders slumped. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aw, shit.”
There were two patrol units a block and a half east, blocking the intersection, the far edge of the perimeter.
“He’s gone,” Wire muttered quietly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“It’s suddenly gotten very late in the game.”
Rubens paid the cab driver cash and exited the vehicle, then began the six block walk to his apartment. It was another rule. If he took a cab, he never let it drop him off where he was living. If he took a bus, he never got off the bus where he lived. It was always a stop or two before or after but never where he was living.
The anger had slowly been rising up inside of him as he made his way back. He didn’t get his masterpiece and far worse, Eleanor could still possibly be alive. He’d been unable to make absolutely sure before the pounding on the door and the sirens signaling the police’s arrival. He didn’t think she would make it. It was highly unlikely but he also wasn’t able to be absolutely certain.
There hadn’t been enough time to confirm it.
In fact, the whole night had never happened before. Even in Los Angeles, when LAPD Detective Walker got somewhat close, he’d still been able to finish, he’d still been able to leave Rhonda Hollister posed as he’d desired. He’d been able to tie the bow on that last one before the police moved in and he narrowly escaped. It had been a close shave, but he’d gotten it done.
Not tonight.
Once he exited the old sewer system, he set about covering his tracks. From the tunnel exit, he made his way southwest and eventually to the Metro. He took the Orange Line out to East Falls Church. From there, he hailed the cab to drive him back east across DC toward his apartment. Along the way, he’d gotten rid of the salt and pepper wig, matching goatee and the dark-rimmed glasses, which were exchanged for a denim jacket and Washington Redskins baseball cap.
The look of Tom Edwards was gone, never to be used again.
Inside his apartment, he dumped the keys on the kitchen counter, took out a bottle of water and then turned on the television. In all the years, this was always the good part, waiting for the story to break, the chance to revel in the success.
Tonight would be no such night.
The media was all over the story, reporting from outside of Eleanor’s condo building. There was an all-out manhunt on for a disguised man and there was more footage now, having been spotted at the Smithsonian as well with Gwendolyn Waxe. The police figured out that he’d been cleaning, especially after the chase from Martha Schreiber’s.
That fucking McRyan and Wire, he thought. They are really good. But would they be good enough?
For McRyan and Wire didn’t have two things.
They didn’t have what he really looked like and more importantly, they didn’t have what he would look like going forward.
CNN had gone with full coverage, it otherwise being a slow Saturday news night, and they had one of the best reporters, Renee Terry, on the story. “The police were just a minute or two behind Rubens, having somehow determined who his victim was and where she lived,” Terry reported.
“Renee, do you know how it was the police learned about the victim?”
“The only thing we’re hearing,” Terry answered, “is that the clue the killer had left behind at the home of the second victim, Audrey Ruston, was actually solved but unfortunately, it appears the identity of the victim was determined just minutes, if not a minute too late. It appears it was literally that close.”
“Renee, were the police able to set up roadblocks? Is there a chance he is still in that area?”
“Yes, the police did surround the area. It is very difficult to get in and out of this area right now. Residents were ordered to shelter in place. Every vehicle and person is being stopped and searched. There is also an ongoing building-to-building search. So far, he hasn’t been found and we’re now just learning why that may be,” Terry teased.
“And why is that, Renee?”
“What we’ve been able to learn is that Rubens may have escaped the immediate area through an old out-of-service sewer line accessible through a manhole cover just outside the back of the condominium building. We are hearing that he may have come out several blocks outside of the perimeter the police set up.”
“So they found it,” he muttered at the television as he watched the report. “Glad I knew that was there.”
“Is the search ongoing?” the CNN anchor continued.
“Yes, it is. The images that the authorities have compiled on Rubens continue to be circulated and the district and multi-state search for him continues, but for now at least it appears that the killer has once again slipped away from the authorities.”
“Has the FBI or MPD had anything to say officially?”
“Not as of no
w. It is expected there will be a press briefing at some point but the situation remains fluid at this point.”
“Thank you, Renee,” the anchor said and then moved onto another story. Rubens flipped around to both the local and cable channels and the story remained largely the same, and he began to relax.
“Tonight is over,” he mumbled to himself. “And you didn’t get caught. You didn’t get caught and …” A small smile creased his lips. “The legend is only going to grow.”
• • •
Convinced that Rubens escaped, Mac went into evidence collection mode.
Grace Delmonico was coordinating the search for any video cameras in the area where Rubens came out of the abandoned sewer line. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she noted sourly. “This area is almost exclusively residential.”
Coolidge was overseeing the building and house searches to see if anyone saw someone come out of the sewer. If so, where did he go? Did he get into a car? A cab? A bus? If he didn’t do that, did he get to a Metro line? The closest Metro station was ten blocks west from where Rubens exited the sewer. Given the police in the area and the heightened alert of the neighborhoods in the area it would have been hard to walk ten blocks and go unnoticed, yet so far, nobody had seen anything.
All local cab and car services were being contacted regarding fares and pick-ups in the neighborhood. Bus lines were being checked and Metro station footage was being combed as well.
The problem was, they were looking for a man in a disguise and the get-up Rubens was wearing had undoubtedly long since been discarded, probably before he approached any area where there would be a surveillance camera.
Mac and Wire eventually made their way back to Eleanor’s apartment building and up to the third floor. FBI and MPD forensics teams were working the condo in tandem, collecting whatever evidence they could. In the hallway outside of Eleanor Eagleson’s condo unit, the group had an informal gathering. Galloway, Delmonico, Coolidge, April Greene and even Hugo Ridge all just shook their heads in dismay.
“Any word on Eleanor?” Wire asked.
“I don’t hold out hope,” Coolidge stated, a man who’d seen more than one victim fail to be saved.
Ten minutes later, they lost all hope.
“Sorry, guys,” Ridge reported. “Eleanor didn’t make it. They did everything they could.”
His report drew scorned looks. How could he know before they did?
“What? I have a source at the hospital.”
“Of course you do,” Wire mocked.
Mac questioned Coolidge. “How did Ridge get in here anyway?”
The MPD detective shrugged. “He wormed his way in. The boys in blue aren’t exactly averse to accepting a cash donation to their retirement fund from a reporter. I found him poking around here and I told him to just stay in the hallway. I didn’t think you wanted the media seeing him walking out of here. I figured that would be worse.”
“He does have a way of inserting himself in, doesn’t he?” Mac muttered as he noticed the author making time with Wire. “And a way of distracting my partner,” he added with a wry smile that Coolidge returned. Dara was clearly, if not smitten, at least mildly aroused by Ridge’s presence and she wasn’t hiding it particularly well. There were times when Mac thought she could play just a little harder to get.
“If you want him out, I’ll have one of my boys take care of it,” Coolidge offered.
“Yeah, do that …” Then Mac thought for a second. “No, Linc, wait. Let it go for now.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, time is getting short, very short and we need all the help we can get. Who knows, he’s been chasing this guy for ten years. He might have something to offer.”
“So where are we at?” Coolidge asked.
“Good question,” Mac answered as he waved the group together. “We had him, we were so damn close. But we missed again and now—” Mac paused and exhaled, and then to the group said, “And now he’s changed the rules.”
“How so?” Wire asked.
“No portrait, no clue and he told me when he called that we had forty-seven hours.”
“Forty-seven hours?” Ridge exclaimed in shock.
“No, it’s not just forty-seven hours. It’s forty-seven hours and no clue?” Wire exclaimed.
“He didn’t have time. We got here too soon and yet—” Mac shook his head in disgust. “Not soon enough. He told me we’ll have to find him. By the way, did we ever figure out where Rubens’s call to me came from?”
“We pinged the call off a cell tower six blocks over, off of Kansas Avenue,” Galloway reported. “Beyond that, we can’t tell anything as to where he was when the call came in.”
“So now what?” Wire asked, having brought Ridge over to the group.
“We keep doing what we’re doing,” Mac replied. “The old-school police work has gotten us his description. It prompted a few people to come forward and almost prevented another murder. We have to keep pressing the investigation that way. And—”
“And what?”
“We need a break,” Mac stated, sounding as if he was praying. “Good God, do we need a break.”
The break would not be the shattered wine glass. It was being recovered but it was essentially reduced to dust on the floor. The pieces were being meticulously retrieved and bagged. “I can’t see how it’s even remotely possible to put Humpty Dumpty back together,” one of the FBI forensic techs stated. “The broken glass from the shelves and wine glass are all mixed together.”
The same was true with the wine bottle; it was completely shattered and unfortunately, in all of the commotion of tenants, paramedics and cops arriving on the scene, what might have been retrievable was stepped on and broken further.
The one hope was that in his desperation to flee the scene there would be prints left behind, especially since Eleanor Eagleson maintained her home immaculately. Yet the crime scene tech reported, “I’ve got just one set of prints in the apartment.”
“How is that possible?” Greene complained.
It was actually quite possible for any number of reasons, Mac thought. “When you have a plan,” Mac replied, “you follow it. He didn’t touch anything other than the shattered glass on the floor.”
“Or he doesn’t have prints,” Wire suggested.
“Or he has covers over his prints,” Ridge piped up.
Mac gave him a look of derision.
“Well, I saw it in a movie once.”
“This isn’t an episode of Castle, Ridge,” Mac shot back.
“Hey, I love that show,” Ridge replied.
“Of course you do,” Mac answered derisively.
“Point is, he could fake his prints,” Ridge argued.
“Noted. Now shut up,” Mac shot back. Wire rolled her eyes at him and Ridge smothered a little laugh. Mac saw it all but didn’t say anything. He’d get Wire back later after whatever it was she and Ridge were working toward fizzled and he went back to New York.
As for Ridge’s theory on prints, Mac didn’t discount the theory entirely; he was just annoyed it came from the author.
As the group was milling around, starting to lose some steam, Coolidge got a call from the security company. The video footage was sent to his phone and would be forwarded to Mac from there.
“This is the lobby camera,” Coolidge reported. “Unfortunately the security cameras only cover the entrances and exits. There’s nothing for the hallways.” Linc pushed play. “There he is in that damn goatee, just like the description I got.”
“I don’t think he’ll being using that disguise going forward,” Mac replied. “It has way too much profile now. A lot of our pictures have him with dark hair, a beard or a goatee of some kind. He’s going to have to change that up.”
“Unless his plan didn’t allow for that,” Greene replied. “Everything about this guy says he has a plan and sticks to it.”
“I know,” Mac answered. “And given how well prepared he was tonight, with that sewer
line and all, I’m going to bet that at some point he planned on completely changing up his look just in case, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that time was now.”
“So how does that help?”
Mac smiled. “We’re working with the FBI. I imagine we can come up with all kinds of possible variations of his look that could prove helpful.” He looked to Galloway while he said it.
“On it,” the senior special agent replied, reaching for his well-used cell phone.
They played the video forward in time to see Rubens exiting the back of the building at 9:01. “So he’s in the tunnel maybe thirty seconds, a minute later at most,” Mac muttered. The video was played forward and it was nearly another two minutes before officers came out of the back of the building and a patrol unit pulled into the driveway to the parking garage.
It was late, well after midnight and there was nothing left to do at the scene. Coolidge’s men and the Bureau were going to continue canvassing the area. With nothing left to do at Eleanor’s, they all circled back to the FBI field office to get a better view of the surveillance video.
Greene quietly asked Mac about Ridge’s presence. “Do you think it’s appropriate?”
“No, not technically and I really didn’t like him at the crime scene,” Mac answered and then sighed and shook his head. “However, he’s a good reporter. He’ll get all of this anyway.” He figured Wire was already probably giving him some information. “On top of that, April, a little like you, he knows Rubens and may have some insight, and I need all the help I can get. It’s suddenly gotten very late in the game. It’s all hands on deck at this point—authorities and civilians.”
Greene turned the topic back to Rubens. “So do you think he’ll change up the disguise?”
“If he planned on it, yes,” Mac answered. “If we’re right about him and he has a very carefully orchestrated plan, he can’t change his look much now unless he planned on doing so. But if you figure the police get onto your look, you have to be ready to change it so I’m betting whatever it was he looked like, that look is no more.”
“If he did plan on that, then his last victim won’t be as suspicious.”
Next Girl On The List - A serial killer thriller (McRyan Mystery Series Book) Page 22